Esmeralda
by D. M. Robb
Summary: This vignette, based on the Disney version, explores what Esmeralda could have been thinking while she awaited her execution.


**Esmeralda**

Esmeralda didn't know how long she had been sitting in that tiny, cramped cell but it felt like an eternity. The words she had spoken to Quasimodo, "Gypsies don't do well inside stone walls," echoed through her mind with a throbbing pain. A longing for her old life of dancing through the streets of Paris tore at her. Those streets were often crowded, filled with people who hurried past her and her troupe, giving them suspicious glances, but she wanted more than anything to be there now. Memories of the smells of Paris, baking bread, frying meat, reminded her of her hunger. She couldn't remember when she had last eaten but her hollow stomach was knotted and tense.

Fear jabbed at Esmeralda as she envisioned Frollo's gaunt, sneering face when he announced her fate. "There will be a little bonfire in the square tomorrow."

Tears pricked her eyes but she forced them back. No! She wouldn't give in to weakness, even though Frollo wasn't here. Her loathing for him lent her strength. It was he who had tricked Quasimodo…she knew her good friend the bell ringer would never have purposely betrayed her and her people. Nor had Phoebus.

The tears returned as she recalled Phoebus's warm, muscular embrace and the kiss they had shared in the bell tower. Frollo's men had separated her from him and the others. They had even taken away her little goat Djali. She would probably never see any of them again. Had Frollo won? No. This was a nightmare and she'd awaken soon…

But if it was a nightmare, she'd be asleep and wouldn't feel so tired. She struggled to find comfort on the cold dungeon floor but a dull pain continued to throb behind her eyes and the coarse, ragged robe that she'd been given scratched her skin. Esmeralda was used to falling asleep with her head resting against Djali's warm, soft belly. How could she sleep now? She was exhausted but couldn't tell if it was day or night.

No matter what happens, I must remain brave, she silently told herself. Like my parents. I will _never _succumb to Frollo…

A memory stirred in her mind, the last time she had ever seen her parents.

Esmeralda was a child, no older than six, as she and a few others hid from Frollo's soldiers in the woods that fringed Paris. It was a damp, foggy evening and Esmeralda could see the shadowy forms of several soldiers creeping toward them. Her throat burned with fear as she clung to her mother's skirts. The woman pulled her toward a thick tree with a hollow opening at the base of its trunk.

"Hide in here, little one," the woman urged in a frantic whisper as she stroked Esmeralda's thick, unruly hair. "Whatever you do, no matter what happens, do not come out until the men have gone."

Esmeralda started to protest but her mother hushed her. "And remain silent. Your life depends on it." The woman's beautiful face appeared watery and distorted through Esmeralda's tears. Her vivid turquoise eyes shimmered against the weak light. Esmeralda was dark like her father but she had inherited her mother's eyes. The child simply nodded and curled up in the tight space with her head resting on her knees.

She shivered when she heard a man's voice shout, "Judge Frollo, we've found them."

"Kill them," demanded a voice that was icier than the damp fog, that chilled Esmeralda. She had seen the owner of that voice before. It was Judge Frollo, the enemy of her people. "I will not allow that vermin to live."

Esmeralda wept quietly as she heard the slash of swords, the brief cries of the unarmed gypsies, including her parents, as they died.

_Mother…Father_…she inwardly wailed, struggling not to make a sound. The men laughed ruthlessly as they walked away, their boots crunching over twigs and pebbles.

Esmeralda slowly emerged from her hiding place, numb with grief. Even though tears blurred her vision, she still averted her eyes from the bloody bodies of her parents. The cold air brushed against her damp face. She ran into something that she at first thought was a tree but had the silky feel of expensive cloth and smelled of stale incense. Her blood turned to ice as she looked up at the tall, robed figure.

"Ah, one managed to get away," Judge Frollo said as he bent down to her. Esmeralda rubbed at her wet cheeks and glared up at him. She longed to hit him, kick him, but found she couldn't move. An evil grin cracked the man's thin, sallow face. He grasped her chin with his long, cold fingers. "You are such a pretty little thing. It would be a shame to kill you. Perhaps you might be of use to me someday."

The word "never" formed on Esmeralda's lips but she couldn't release it. Frollo turned from her and strode away, his long robes flowing.

Esmeralda forced that memory away as she heard the door of the dungeon draw aside. Frollo's soldiers dragged her from the cell, down a long passageway, to the outside. Her eyes, accustomed to the dark, stung and watered against the bloody light of the setting sun as she was pulled into a cart. The pungent scents of fire and ash clung to the air.

Fear tightened Esmeralda's throat as the cart rumbled and jolted over the uneven cobblestones, toward the town square. Crowds of people filled the streets. Some jeered as she rode by but many appeared solemn, even fearful. She could see the other gypsies, along with Phoebus, in cages. She longed to call out to Phoebus as he struggled against the bars but her words dissolved as the cart drew closer to a platform with a wooden stake. A sneering Frollo stood beside it, along with a large, muscular man she recognized as the executioner, holding a blazing torch. Majestic Notre Dame loomed beyond, her enormous, colorful window seeming to watch everything like a giant eye.

I will not give in to Frollo, Esmeralda thought as she was pulled from the cart and roughly tied to the stake. Her heart roared in her ears as soldiers threw kindling around her feet. She refused to look in Frollo's direction.

She focused only on one thought.

I will die bravely, like my parents.

**End**

**The rest is covered in the film.**


End file.
